by Jenny Lynn
I reached for the glass. As I took it from him, his fingertip grazed mine and I felt a wave of revulsion course through me. “Smart choice,” he said, replacing the needle in its box below his seat and pouring himself a glass of champagne.
“Cheers.” He reached forward, tapped his glass against mine, then took a drink. I did the same, bubbles rushing over my dry mouth. Think Ella, think, I told myself. The drugs they had given me at the hotel were slowly starting to wear off. Get him talking, and you might learn something you can use.
“My name is Ella James. What’s your name?” I asked finally.
“I know your name, Ella,” he said. “I paid for you, remember?”
I felt my grip on the glass tighten involuntarily, and reminded myself to stay calm. Composed. In control of my emotions. This asshole clearly liked getting a rise out of me, so I shouldn’t give him one.
“What should I call you then?” I asked. “Or should I just call you the buyer?”
He drank his champagne, thinking it over. “No, I prefer you call me Charles.”
“Is that your real name?”
“It is,” he said. “When you talk to me, when you scream, when you cry, I want it to be my real name on those beautiful lips of yours, Ella.”
This man was setting my revulsion into overdrive. “You’re a wealthy man, and you’re not terrible looking. Why do you need to resort to buying a woman? I’m sure there are other ways to get your needs met than buying a sex slave.”
His eyes widened and he laughed; the sound terrified me. His laugh was unsettling, like the soundtrack for a haunted house. Menacing.
“Because, Ella, that’s not what I bought you for. If I wanted to fuck a woman, I have no problems getting those needs met. So let’s be clear - I didn’t buy a sex slave, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I had assumed he was a rapist. My blood turned cold when I realized it was going to be much, much worse than that.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, hating that my voice was shaking.
“And ruin the surprise?” he said, reaching for the bottle and topping our glasses. “I’d rather we wait for that, and just enjoy this time together. You’ll find out what I want when I’m ready for you to know, if I feel like telling you.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, realizing we were already in the air. The drugs and alcohol, the shock and fear, making me disoriented and incapable of focusing on more than one thing at a time.
“How about I ask a few questions now,” he said. “That’s how a civilized conversation works, doesn’t it, Ella? You ask about me, I ask about you, we both get to know each other a little bit better.”
“I thought you knew everything about me when you bought me,” I said. “What else would you like to know, Charles?”
“See? I was right, I do love hearing you say my name… Yes, I know some things about you, but not everything. Not yet, anyway. You were a writer - a journalist, I understand. Any other talents?”
I hated that he was using the past tense when referring to my life, but I understood I shouldn’t challenge him on it. He was expecting me to push back, had been since he dragged me from the hotel against my will. Away from Beckett. The memory of the man I loved flooded back threatening to undo me. I took a drink of champagne, composing myself.
“I like to draw,” I said. “I don’t think there is anything else, if I’m honest.”
“This isn’t a time for modesty,” he sighed. “There must be something else that makes you special.”
“I’m not being modest, just honest. The only thing that’s special about me is my writing.” I squirmed in my seat, suddenly feeling worthless. Which was insane - why did I care if I impressed this asshole?
“Dancing?” he asked. I shook my head. “Singing? Can you cook? Ventriloquism? Do you know any magic tricks?” I continued to shake my head. “Interesting,” he said. “Well, that’s fine, I guess. A blank canvas holds so much potential.”
“That’s one way to look at a lack of talent,” I said as politely as I could manage. “Can I ask then, why didn’t you pick a woman who had any of those skills if they were so important to you?”
He looked away, out the window, not making eye contact when he answered me. Why was he being evasive? What was he hiding? “Well, there were a number of things that drew me to you Ella,” he said. “For one, you have an interesting face. Your beauty initially drew me to you, and then the details I was able to collect told me you were more than just another pretty face. You’re intelligent, and independent. It was a refreshing change from their typical inventory.”
I tried not to react to his repeated attempts to dehumanize me. Did it make it easier for him, what he had done, if he acted like I was a thing. “You’ve done this before,” I said. I didn’t frame it as a question, but he gave me an answer.
“Yes,” he said, still refusing to look me in the eyes. “I have.”
Don’t ask about the others, don’t ask about the others, I told myself, my heart had started to race. Was he taking me home with him to a harem? Was I the only one? If I was the only one, did that mean he…
“You had my attention before I even decided to go to the auction, but I hadn’t made up my mind yet, if I’m honest.” Finally, Charles looked at me, and I felt a chill run through me at the intensity of his gaze. “When I witnessed your little outburst at the auction, it made me think you would be enjoyable to have around. You have a defiant streak, and that’s what I look for in a woman. I didn’t want a quiet wallflower, I wanted fire. You proved to me you were unbreakable, despite their best efforts, I’m sure.”
I felt the color drain from my face.
I had done this to myself.
If I had just been quiet, if I had followed what I had been told to do and didn’t make a scene, maybe Charles would have lost interest in me. Instead, my own actions had caught the attention of this monster, and made him focus on me even closer. If I had kept my eyes down, if I had been a silent wallflower, maybe he would have moved on. Beckett would have been able to buy me, unchallenged, and together we could have figured out a way to save the others. Time and time again, my temper and utter disregard for my own safety had been my downfall.
“The thing that pushed me over the top, however,” Charles continued - as if what he had said wasn’t bad enough. “Was the competition in bidding for you. Someone else wanting what I wanted, and wanting it so earnestly. Well, that made my victory all the sweeter.”
I tasted bile rise in my throat and needed to drink more champagne to wash it down. I didn’t care if I got a bit drunk - I had the sense that if I did, it would pale in comparison to whatever hell my life was about to become.
“I sort of liked that man, to be honest,” Charles sighed. “He was like me, I could sense it when we spoke on the balcony earlier that evening. A man of specific, dark urges. Not like the others who were just looking for a plaything. He craved something more serious than that, like I do.”
“I don’t think he’s like you,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Oh?” Charles laughed. “Did you have a preference which of us bought you?”
“No,” I lied. “I just don’t think anyone else there had the same intentions you did.”
“You have no idea how right you are about that, Ella,” he topped his glass. I shook my head, but he topped mine regardless. “However, you’ll need to take my word on it about him, he would have been no different than me. I’m an expert, this is my world - you were just brought into it as inventory.”
Asshole, asshole, asshole.
“He outbid you, though,” I pressed. “How did you end up with me? I’m curious.”
“Ah,” he said. “That’s where things get interesting. I made a call, a bit pissed off, I’ll admit. You see, I wanted you Ella, there’s no doubt about that. But I didn’t want to spend the night in a pissing match with another bidder who seemed obsessed and ready to overpay. I know the people behind this, I work w
ith them in a way, and I had some sway. The strangest thing though - I didn’t even have to remind them of that. I told Tony that I had my mind set on you, and he let me have you for my agreed upon price.”
“Tony Venetti…” my voice sounded hollow and distant, leaving my body along with any hope I would get out of this alive.
“It seems you made quite a powerful enemy, Ella. He didn’t care that I was the lowest bidder,” he said. “Tony had only one request of me in exchange.”
“And what was that?” I asked, my body turning numb.
“That you suffer, every moment, of every day,” he smiled at me. “But if you learn to do as you're told, it doesn’t need to be that way. It can be our little secret.” Charles winked at me. He was enjoying this, and I was starting to break apart. I thought the worst had already happened, but as it turned out it would only get worse for me. It can always get worse.
“Cheers, Ella,” Charles tapped his glass against mine in celebration while I sat frozen in my seat. “To the start of our relationship.”
20
Beckett
This was essentially a mission, like so many I had done before, dangerous and high stakes. I couldn't afford to be reckless, I couldn't make any mistakes. To trap this monster, I couldn't let my heart influence me. In the dark world of criminals, the only way to counter cruelty was with cruelty. This was now a chess game between two skilled players, and I was playing to win.
I asked Bishop to use his network, to gather as much intel for me as he could. I had an incomplete picture of the man who bought Ella, I needed to fill in the blanks. Once I understood him better, then I could possibly predict his next move. But first, I needed to make contact. He gave me his card; it was up to me now to keep the game going.
I sat in a chair, leaning back, flipping the card over between my fingers as I stared up at the ceiling. Think, Beckett, think. The man was competitive, used to getting what he wanted with very few barriers. He liked a challenge, friction, but the way he liked to fight wasn't necessarily physical. He demonstrated his power in other ways. It was a shame, since I wanted to beat him into a pulp. A quick death by a bullet, or a slow death at my hands; it would depend on what he's done to my Ella.
I took my phone and decided on a text rather than a call. Less direct, I'd start slow.
Congratulations on your prize. I was disappointed to leave empty handed, I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming. Well played, and remind me to never bid against you again.
I felt sick after writing those words, but after reading them over, I decided it was the best I could do based on my limited understanding of him and hit send. I held the phone tight in my hands, intensely focused on the screen. Minutes dragged by.
"Text back, you piece of shit," I muttered to myself.
When an hour passed without a reply, my mind started to travel to dark places. He had Ella tonight. If he was ignoring his phone, that meant his attention was elsewhere. Probably on her.
She must be terrified - terrified and defiant. Definitely defiant. She was a strong woman, not easy to keep captive. I learned that fact about her early on when I tried to keep her locked up for the sake of my secret; first it made me respect her, then I desired her for that fire burning inside her. Finally, I grew to love her for it, for everything she was. Her pain, her mind, her body, her morals. She was my light; what would my life become if she was gone? Knowing how good it could be, then having that torn away?
I wandered into the lounge and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, ignoring the nearby glasses. I didn't want a way to keep track, I needed sweet oblivion tonight. I needed to dull the pain, so that I was prepared for whatever happened next.
I didn't want to fail, but I had to accept that it was a possibility. I wasn't going to give up, even if it cost me everything; my fortune, my reputation, my life. I had experienced too much loss already. I'd never recover from losing her, and I knew it.
I flicked on the fireplace, let the flames illuminate the room, and dropped onto the couch letting my body sink into the cushions. I tipped the bottle back and drank, feeling the liquor burn a path from my lips down my throat, into my stomach. Mercifully, it was already starting to calm my nerves.
Looking at my hands, I started to unwind the bandages. They were slightly swollen, but already showing signs of improvement. They were used to taking a beating, the skin and tendons resilient.
I headed for the bathroom, grabbed a tube of medicated ointment from the shelf, spread it over my hands, and wrapped them in fresh bandages. I was an expert by now at fixing my external wounds. Stripping out of my jacket and dress shirt, I headed back to the couch and my liquid relief, taking another drink while the glow of the flames warmed my skin. The deep wounds on the inside of me never fully healed, but I could at least take the edge off.
I was sitting and watching the fire, lost in dark thoughts, when my phone vibrated. I jumped to my feet, staring at its screen on the table. My heart was starting to race, I picked it up to read the message, hoping it was him.
Don't say that, you were a worthy adversary. I'd hate to think such a stimulating rivalry would never repeat itself again. Do you like to gamble? I'm hosting a private game soon, a chance to socialize and a distraction from the banality of life. Let me know if you’re interested.
God, this guy is such a smarmy prick, I thought to myself. But it worked, I was getting closer. I had caught his interest enough that he wanted to see me again. I was right about him.
He was a bored, lonely, obscenely rich man looking to be challenged and amused. I knew, because I also suffered from how empty it can be to get everything you want with very few barriers in the way. There's no thrill when it's so easy, no anticipation. It loses its appeal, and you start chasing other ways to feel alive. You can become a monster... the question was, what kind of a monster was he?
My move. The stakes were high, but I had no choice but to play this game.
Well then, I’d welcome the chance to beat you in any game. Just name the time and place.
I didn't need to wait long for his reply this time. My phone buzzed while I had the liquor bottle against my lips, suppressing my concern about Ella the only way I could. Numb, I pleaded with my body, cursing my high tolerance. Make me numb.
Saturday evening. Instructions to come - and you're more than welcome to try.
My heart sank. Saturday was soon, but not soon enough for me, given the circumstances. I didn't reply, leaving it up to him to provide his instructions when he was ready. I couldn’t seem too eager. I had piqued his interest, and given him a peer that he felt was worthy to compete against.
I drank heavily, my heart feeling more fragile than has ever been comfortable for me. I wished she was here, her head in my lap, my fingers stroking the soft strands of her hair. The bottle was nearly empty when I finally felt my eyes growing heavy.
Ella, I'm coming for you.
Ella, I'll save you.
Ella, you're the only one who can save me.
Ella...
My last thoughts before I drifted off into a dreamless sleep were of her.
21
Ella
When the plane landed, there was a car nearby waiting for us. I had already given up on the idea of running when I boarded the plane, there were too many eyes on me. I needed to wait for my moment, to let Charles think he had broken me, and then I would take my chances. There were men waiting by the black Range Rover, it looked armored, and they were holding guns. I kept my eyes downcast as I walked past them and followed Charles into the vehicle.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said. I’m sure he meant for it to be comforting, but any attempt at comforting me from him made me feel immediately uneasy.
Watching the scenery whip past as we drove, plants and street signs, I realized we were in Mexico. My heart broke and I tried to keep my tears at bay - would Beckett be able to find me here? And if I did manage to get away from Charles, where would I go? I had no cash, no passport, even the clothes I was wear
ing weren’t mine.
I’d need to find the American embassy, tell them what had happened to me, and rely on our government to rescue me. I needed to make a plan. I was in distress, but I was determined not to be a helpless damsel. Beckett would look for me, he would never stop trying. I knew that. But I couldn’t rely on him to do it alone - I also needed to be smart and try to outwit my captor.
My captor. Twice now in my life, I had been taken by a man against my will. Twice now, I’ve been locked away, stripped of my free will and my agency. I had managed to fight back then, and I would fight back now. Charles was nothing like Beckett, there would be no earning his respect. Beckett never mistreated me, never hit or belittled me, he had only been trying to protect his secret identity. There was nothing this man could ever care about enough to protect, no secrets that could redeem his actions - whatever his intentions were for me, they weren’t noble. And whatever he wanted from me; my body, my compliance, my mind - he would not get it without me fighting him every moment of every day.
When we finally stopped, I was pulled from my private thoughts. Solid iron gates opened and the car drove past them, impossibly tall walls flanking all sides, the gates closing behind us. They were made for both privacy and containment; no one could come in, or get out, without being permitted. Charles exited the car and I followed, my eyes wandering around the compound. Inside the space was beautiful, with lush gardens and tropical plants bearing fruit. The scent of citrus was in the air; lemons, limes, tangerine and grapefruit.
I walked after Charles along the path, past a man-made waterfall cascading into a teal-tiled pool. It was an opulent prison, a show of excess for a man who could buy whatever he wanted - even a human being. When he pulled open the heavy front doors, painted bright red, and stepped aside for me to enter; I hesitated. I had no choice, there was nowhere I could go, but I was in a strange place with a strange man. Nothing about this situation felt okay, and my instincts were in overdrive.
